One Flesh
by aa.fic
Summary: Merlin Xiuhtecuhtli is a Los Angeles-based fashion photographer who has been happily married to Arthur Pendragon for years—until Merlin loses his job & Gwen comes into Arthur's life. Modern AU/Slash
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **One Flesh

**Pairing**: Merlin/Arthur

**Synopsis**: Merlin Xiuhtecuhtli is a Los Angeles-based fashion photographer who has been happily married to Arthur Pendragon for years—until Merlin loses his job & Gwen comes into Arthur's life. Modern AU, slash

**Genre:** Angst, family, slash

**Warnings: **Mild treatment/reference to dub-con, eating issues, religion, racial/ethnic issues, homophobia. Death of minor character (Balinor)

**A/N**: There is one scene that could be considered to have mild dub-con overtones, but is there because it is important to the plot. I will post a warning at the beginning of the chapter and a summary at the end so you can skip the details if it bothers you.

**Rating: **M for language and adult content

**Disclaimer: **All Merlin belongs to BBC.

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><p>"Good-bye, Merlin!"<p>

They'd been married for years but hadn't talked in months.

As he did every morning, Merlin lay quietly in bed until he heard the sound of Arthur's car tear into the dawn-lit Los Angeles streets. Around him, the guest room morphed into a scene from the kind of fashion spread he would have shot once. Merlin built the images into a trite narrative: his lithe and shirtless form under the covers; his face all sleepless eyes and swollen lips; the harsh profile of Arthur's face; a hand with a wedding band on the doorknob. The pictures would be all greys and blacks and blues, a little less sharp than usual but not so grainy as to suggest sentiment.

"Christ, I'm my own cliché," he muttered. His gaze landed on the small carving of the Xiuhcóatl that his father had given him while he was dying. _Take this to remember me by, Merlin. It's been in our family for generations, passed down from father to son. And you are the last Xiuhtecuhtli_. But he could feel nothing at the memory. Even being the last dragonlord, whatever that meant, couldn't help him put his life together now.

Merlin rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand and pushed off the blanket, a gnawing hollowness spreading through him—as it always did—whenever he remembered the way things were. And the way things had once been.


	2. Chapter 2

They first met at a bar where Merlin had gotten a drink after work. The day had been long but fruitful, a series of meetings in which he'd marketed his company's medical supplies to important clients. He'd shaken hand after hand, had smiled and persuaded, the youthful innocence in his eyes subdued by the sophistication apparent in his dark Bottega Veneta suit, in the way his textured hair was strategically angled around his face. Merlin had won everyone over; he looked elegant and cultured and he knew it. The adrenaline rushing through his body from the day's successes spurred him to continue chasing the high, to wring from the evening all it had to offer.

As Merlin pulled onto Santa Monica Boulevard, he lifted his phone from his jacket pocket and hit 1 to dial Morgana. The warm evening air was brushing through his hair as he leaned back in the seat and waited for her to answer.

"Hey, what are you doing?" Merlin asked when Morgana picked up.

"Nothing, why? You sound happy. Did you get laid again?"

"No, you idiot. Do you think I would be calling you if that were the case?" Merlin teased. "You wouldn't believe how much I sold today. I'll be promoted next month no question. Do you want to come to the Abbey with me for a drink to celebrate? It's on me."

"Sure."

"Where are you? At Bunche?"

"Yup. I got out of class an hour ago and now I'm just hanging around pretending to study. You coming to get me, big brother?"

"I am."

"Ok, then, I'll see you in 30."

Merlin hung up the phone and smiled to himself. In college he had been embarrassed to hang out with his sister, but now he'd rather go out with her than just about anyone. She could own a second-hand Gucci dress like a starlet and her hair seemed to twist into elaborate up-dos all by itself. He was conscious of how eerily similar they looked with their dark massy hair, angular faces, and unexpected blue eyes; people stared when they walked in to a room together. Merlin couldn't help feeling a secret delight whenever he heard that people found them glamorous and intimidating, but as fun as that was, more important was how witty and smart Morgana had become, and how much she adored him. Ever since they had been kids she'd loved to follow him around, grab at all his toys, and uncover crafty ways to be included in his games.

Morgana lived up to all his expectations as they lingered over dirty martinis and shrimp. She looked chic yet edgy in faded black skinny jeans paired with weathered boots and a rose-colored tweed blazer, the cuffs rolled up to reveal the yellow silk lining beneath. She was going on about one of the courses she was taking, holding her drink in one hand while using the other to gesticulate with intellectual authority. "And half of the current United States territory was Aztlán, the original home of the Aztec people. And now look at it!" she exclaimed. Merlin nodded his head to indicate agreement, but he was more preoccupied with the way the overhead lights cast shadows below her cheekbones.

"Let me take a quick picture with my phone," he interrupted.

"Oh God, Merlin, no. Why do we always have to do this?"

"Just keep talking like before. Here, hold your hand up like you're making a point. Look serious…say something more about Aztlán," he urged as he photographed her a few quick times. But Morgana's fun-loving nature wouldn't allow her to hold the pose. Instead she ended up giving a goofy parody of herself lecturing him. Merlin had dozens of such photos of Morgana; he would have to catch her unawares sometime to bring out that fieriness she revealed only when she didn't know anyone was watching.

"Honestly, Merlin, I don't know why you never did anything with your photography degree. You're so good at it. And you obviously love it."

"Wouldn't be making enough money to buy suits like this, would I?" he replied, keeping his tone light although he felt a brief throb of regret.

"No, I suppose not," she agreed, and then went on to talk about a guy she had started seeing, giving Merlin plenty of time to scan the room.

His eyes fell on a sexy blond sitting by the windows. The man didn't look at all self-conscious about being alone, but rather observed the laughing patrons in the bar while he smugly tugged at his lower lip with his fingers. When he discovered Merlin looking at him, the man didn't smile or look away, but held his gaze. Finding himself so coolly assessed gave Merlin a shock, and he flushed. But as the gin began to take effect, Merlin couldn't help letting his eyes wander back over to the man. And now every time he did, the guy was staring back, until it was so obvious Merlin no longer felt embarrassed about looking.

"You're not even listening to me anymore," said Morgana in mock anger. She swiveled in the bar stool to see what had distracted him. "Ah. I get it now," she said, putting her hand on his shoulder. "My job as arm candy has been fulfilled. I should go home and let you get on with it."

Merlin knew she wasn't really mad, but he felt guilty all the same. "Morgana, I'm sorry. No, let's both go. I'll give you a ride home."

"Don't you even think of it. I love you, big brother," she insisted, leaning in to give him a kiss on the cheek. "I will be perfectly fine on the bus. If I don't just find another way to make trouble this evening. Bye now," she said.

After Morgana left the bar, Merlin hesitated for only a moment before sauntering over to the man, who watched his approach with a confident expression on his face. This guy was a cocky one, Merlin noted, but that didn't give him second thoughts. If anything, it only made him more attractive.

Merlin let a finger graze the man's table but didn't say a word. This guy was somehow even cuter up close, the black t-shirt he was wearing bringing out an alluring coldness in his eyes.

"I'm Arthur," the man finally said. "Are you going to buy me a drink or not?"

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><p><strong>Thank you for reading! Your thoughts are always appreciated.<strong>


	3. Chapter 3

Merlin couldn't sit down fast enough.

"Would love to. I'm Merlin."

"Merlin, huh?" asked Arthur, leaning back in the chair to evaluate Merlin, who felt a sudden surge of tingly under his gaze. "And who was that you were having a drink with, is she your girlfriend?"

"You know she's not," Merlin replied saucily.

"Just a casual date then?" Arthur sounded flirtatious, but Merlin thought he detected a hint of seriousness there, as if he could have any doubt as to why Merlin had decided to stick around the bar all by himself and then fling himself at Arthur at the first opportunity.

"She's my sister, Morgana. But she had to go," Merlin informed him, his voice cracking then and sounding not at all as sure of himself as he would like. "So I'm all alone now."

"I see," said Arthur, relaxing. "So Merlin, tell me more about yourself. What's your last name?"

"Xiuhtecuhtli."

"She-ah-tech-who?"

"_Shee-wah-tay-COOWA-tleh_." Merlin slowed the word down and exaggerated the pronunciation, as he had to do whenever he introduced himself to someone new.

"Shee-wah-tay-COOWA-tleh," Arthur imitated with a slight slur. "What kind of a name is that?'

"It's Nahuatl. You know, the language of the Aztecs, as in the original people here."

"Is it? I've never heard of that," Arthur said, as if having proposed the question in the interest of creating small talk, he cared very little about the response. Arthur pushed around his empty glass. "So when are you getting me that drink?"

"Oh, yeah, sorry about that," Merlin answered, trying to decide if he was annoyed or intrigued by Arthur's authoritative air. The man was obviously accustomed to bossing people around. Maybe he was a bit _too _cocky. But the way Arthur's t-shirt tightened against the thickness of his arms, the muscles half pushing out below the sleeves, and the unexpected appearance of soft ivory skin didn't leave Merlin much room for debate. He lifted an arm to summon a waiter.

"So Merlin Shee-wah-tay-whatever," Arthur said as they waited, "what does that mean in Aztec?"

"The language is _Nahuatl_, not Aztec, and it's the name of a god."

"A god, huh? That's kind of cool," Arthur was starting to look interested.

Aware that he had his audience's attention now, Merlin began to brag with more confidence. "Yes, well, if you want to know, Xiuhtecuhtli was the god of fire. He was a sexy young warrior and the patron of kings. And he had a dragon."

"Fire, warrior, kings, dragons, sexy? That's quite a legacy you've got there."

"Well, they say I'm the last in the line," Merlin replied. "It's a bit of a burden."

"Mmm," Arthur said, leaning in. "I thought there might have been something special about you, and come to find out you're a god." He bit his lip, eyeing Merlin's own.

"There's nothing godly about me, trust me!" Merlin laughed. "Ugh, that waiter is never coming. I'm just going to go over to the bar and order. What do you want?"

"I'll have a Glendronach."

"A man of taste, I see," Merlin teased as he rose. Arthur watched as Merlin's gangly form rose from the chair. "I'll be back in a minute."

"I won't move a muscle," Arthur promised.

"See that you don't," Merlin flirted back. He couldn't help smiling to himself as he walked over to the bar, Arthur all delicious and hot waiting for him at the table. True, the guy was kind of an ass, but they didn't necessarily need to do a lot of talking. Arthur was just what he had been hoping for when he had walked into the Abbey: a cute guy with a broad chest and an insolent look in his eye to help bring his perfect day to a close.

"Hey, Leon, I'll have another dirty martini and a Glendronach," Merlin requested from the bartender. To avoid looking at Arthur while he waited, Merlin focused on the bottles of scotch on display behind the counter as if they were the most fascinating things he'd ever seen.

When Leon returned with the drinks, he said, "Here you go, Merlin. The martini's just how you like it, extra dirty. And good luck over there. I haven't seen him in here before. He's a real hottie."

"He is, isn't he?" Merlin agreed. "I'm a little bit too…I mean, _unf_."

Leon laughed and gave him a wink. "Hey man, just be safe. You go have a good time now."

Merlin found himself still pinned by Arthur's eyes as he turned to walk back. The way Arthur's attention hadn't wavered for a second since he first noticed Merlin was beginning to unsettle him pleasantly. Merlin could see that Arthur was a man who knew exactly what he wanted and didn't give a damn who could see him wanting it, and just now Merlin knew that what Arthur wanted was him. Merlin felt both empowered by Arthur's attention and a little undone by it. The confidence he'd been riding on all day nourished itself on Arthur's obvious desire, and yet in spite of Merlin's self-assurance he was sensing the fault lines in his composure beginning to deepen.

Caught up in Arthur's stare and the hard curl of his shoulder as he leaned into one elbow on the table and the way he was pulling at his lip again (goddamn him), Merlin crashed right into the hard chest of a guy who had stepped in front of him. Merlin lost his balance from the impact and his drink sloshed out all over the man's richly-textured blazer.

"Hey, watch it, you idiot! Do you know how much this jacket cost?" the man asked, a feral threat rumbling in his voice as he crowded Merlin's personal space.

"Sorry about that, my friend," Merlin responded, trying not to look too nervous as he smiled up, up, way up to the displeased face looming over him. "I'm a bit of an oaf sometimes." Merlin had no illusions about his lack of physical prowess; he was built like a clothes hanger and stood no chance against a guy this size. But he was smart and classy and could usually win people over with his charm, which he now dialed to maximum, letting his dimples pop.

Merlin's efforts scored not even a crack in the guy's indignation. "And how am I going to get the stink of your low-end liquor out of this? Are you going to pay for my dry cleaning bill, oaf?" the man countered, his face gone red with anger and drink. There was a dangerous look in his eyes and Merlin's heart was pounding heavily now as he braced himself for a blow.

"Is there a problem here?" Merlin heard behind the great wall of brawny man that was in front of him.

"And who the fuck are you?" the man asked, turning around and revealing Arthur standing behind him, very much shorter but looking not at all intimidated. He was holding something out in his hand for the man to see.

"Arthur Pendragon, LAPD. I suggest you leave this man alone. It was obviously an accident and he has apologized. If you like, I'd be more than happy to pay for your jacket to be cleaned. But let's not have any trouble, shall we? This is a nice bar and I wouldn't want to inconvenience the owners." Merlin gaped at what he could now see was a police badge in Arthur's hand.

"Oh yes, of course, I'm sorry, officer," replied the man, calming down immediately. "You're right; I wouldn't want to give the old Abbey a bad reputation. It's been a long day, you know?" He turned to Merlin now and placed one of his huge hands on his shoulder, completely enfolding it. "I'm sorry there. It's not a big deal. The place is crowded, things happen. No worries."

He knew he shouldn't, but Merlin couldn't hold himself back from giving the man a smirk now that there was no chance of his being pummeled into the sidewalk outside. "Sure thing, thanks for being cool about it. Sorry I crashed into you like that."

The man smiled back at Merlin and then at Arthur. "Yeah, no problem, really. I'll have some drinks sent over to your table to replace the ones that spilled."

Merlin raised an eyebrow. "That'd be very much appreciated, thank you."

Arthur stepped closer to Merlin and cleared his throat, giving him a reproachful look. "Here, why don't you let me take those drinks—or at least what remains of them, _Mer_lin. You apparently were not destined for the profession of waiting tables. Or really for any profession that requires agility and grace," he mocked, lifting the sticky glasses from Merlin's hands and heading back to their table.

Merlin was now decidedly turned on and followed quickly behind. "So," he said, catching his breath as he sat down, "Back there, what was that? What are you, like my knight in shining armor?"

Arthur looked pleased with himself. "Hm, yes, you could say that." He paused, his eyes dropping down to Merlin's lips. "Are you grateful?"

"Oh yes," Merlin assured him.

"I'm glad to hear it. And how do you plan on proving your gratefulness?" asked Arthur, lowering his voice a little.

"Well, I guess you'll have to wait and find out, won't you?" Merlin shot back, and then flushed.

Arthur smiled out of the corner of his mouth at Merlin as he pushed their drinks to the side to make room for the new ones the waiter was bringing over.

"Compliments of the man at the bar," said the waiter. "With apologies for the misunderstanding earlier."

Merlin turned his head around and saw the huge guy smiling and giving them a friendly wave. Merlin smothered a giggle and returned the wave. "Jesus, look at him," he said to Arthur. "I've never seen a man pull a 360 with quite that amount of speed."

"Well, being LAPD has its advantages," Arthur returned, taking a sip from his drink and making a face. "God that taste awful."

"I suppose it must have benefits. But I never really saw myself going for an officer."

"Are you, Merlin?" asked Arthur as he let a knee pass against Merlin's under the table, his gaze searching him over as if uncovering all of his secrets before getting hooked again on Merlin's eyes. "Are you going for an officer right now?"

"I suppose I am," Merlin replied, staring right back.


	4. Chapter 4

He had taken Arthur home that night and fucked him roundly. Merlin smiled a little to himself, remembering how nice it had been to have had the LAPD on _its _knees for once instead of the other way around.

In the morning, Arthur had disappeared. It was a classic one-night stand that Merlin occasionally fantasized about during his commute but never considered repeating, especially because he did not know much more about Arthur than his first name. It was unlikely he'd ever run into him again; L.A. was a big place and there were a lot of attractive gay men around.

Speaking of attractive gay men, Merlin thought as he tucked a black button-down shirt into his jeans, _Leon_. He would be seeing him in just an hour. Ever since he moved to West Hollywood, it had become routine to stop by the Abbey for a drink after work. Sitting alone at the bar, Merlin gradually came to know the bartender, and they soon developed a light and witty banter between them. He was, Merlin had to confess, most definitely his type—broad shouldered and dirty blond, all manly with a hint of sweetness. Merlin had grown to feel relaxed around him, and it did not surprise him when their casual chitchat turned into a thinly-veiled flirtation.

And then there was that time that Merlin, after having had one round too many, followed Leon into the storage room where he had gone to restock some empty bottles of vodka. As he crept after him, Merlin giggled at his audacity but, being pleasantly buzzed, had no qualms brazenly throwing himself at the bartender. He caught him completely off-guard as Leon fumbled around in the shelves, straining to reach a box marked with the Grey Goose logo. Merlin came up behind him and grabbed Leon's ass with both hands, leaning in to give him a little bite at the back of the neck but then ended up laughing against him instead. Leon jumped a mile and twirled around, ready to hit Merlin, but when he realized who it was, he laughed too and reached back to take Merlin around the waist, pulling him towards him. "You impish prick," he had teased, and then kissed him on the lips, nothing passionate but fun nonetheless, the kiss impossible to take seriously as they laughed into each other's mouths, then Leon breaking away and giving Merlin an affectionate hit on the back of the head. "Come on, I can't be caught back here playing happy hour with horny patrons," Leon had said, pushing Merlin out of the storage room in front of him. The incident had never been repeated, and nor did it cause any unwanted tension between them; if anything they were friendlier than ever, and Leon never once showed even the slightest bit of jealousy whenever Merlin went on his periodic prowls for cute guys at the Abbey.

But then the week after he'd seduced Arthur right in front of him (or was it the other way around?), Leon invited him out for a movie. Merlin was hesitant to say yes at first because Leon was a nice guy and he didn't want to complicate the light-hearted relationship they shared. On the other hand, Leon had finally cut that long curly hair that had always, in Merlin's eyes, detracted from his appeal. Now it was cropped closely along the sides, with a sexy mass on top, and with that hopeful look in his eyes, how was Merlin supposed to turn him down? Merlin could easily imagine the fun of giving Leon a good cuddle on the couch after the movie. So he'd said yes, and they'd gone and seen _Transformers_, their teasing and the ribbing and the shoulder-punching suggesting bromance much more than a date. Still, the way Leon could never keep his hands off Merlin for long, and how he would tug Merlin closer by the sleeve whenever he'd wanted to make a comment about the movie, and then when he had kicked at the heel of Merlin's boot with his toe, pushing Merlin's foot off the floor and then sliding his leg into the space he'd created, all this had slowly built up the sexual tension between them well before the screen went dark, and there was some frantic clutching and groping in the car afterwards.

Leon had planned to wake up early the next day to give his brother a ride home from the airport, so the night ended early, and Merlin was not unhappy that things hadn't gone further. Leon was worth more than a quick fuck, even if they were no more than friends having a good time together. He didn't want things to get out of hand, but he did want to see Leon again. If he was honest with himself, the date had been more fun than Merlin had had for a while. So he stopped by the Abbey again after work the previous Tuesday, when the bar would be quiet, and this time he made sure he didn't let his eyes wander. They talked when Leon had a few minutes between orders, and by the time he left, Merlin had another date lined up for this evening.

On his way to pick him up, Merlin's cell phone rang. "Hi, mom. How are you?" he answered.

"I'm fine, sweetie. Are you busy right now?"

"Sort of. Not very. I'm picking up a friend. We're going to get a drink before dinner. Why, what's up?"

"Do you have time to stop by? We're having a problem with the sink again, and your father's tinkering with it, trying to figure out what's going on, but you know, he was never much good at that sort of thing. And you're always so handy."

Merlin sighed. "Um, I suppose I could push back my plans. I'll be over in a bit." He hung up and dropped the phone on the passenger seat as he turned into Leon's street.

When he went up to his apartment, he found Leon dressed and ready to go. Merlin told him how annoyed he was about needing to stop over at his parents, but Leon accepted the change of plans with characteristic good grace. "We can skip the drink, Merlin. But I have nothing to do now anyway, so I'm happy to just go with you before dinner."

"Yeah? That'd be great, actually. That'd simplify things quite a bit because we can head out right after. And if it's only a small problem, it shouldn't take too long. It's all the driving around that's such a pain."

"And…your parents? Will they be weirded out if I show up with you…like, who's this guy?"

"Well, you know, parents. They'll be curious of course, but uh, they're pretty laid back people. I bring friends over all the time," Merlin responded as he turned around to leave the apartment.

Merlin felt Leon's hands reach around and grab him by the hips. "Is that all we are, Merlin? Just friends?" he asked, leaning in to nuzzle Merlin's neck.

Merlin laughed, feeling flattered and aroused and a little uncomfortable all at once. "I suppose we're not exactly friends," he said, turning within Leon's arms until his mouth was mashed up against his. They kissed slowly and with more seriousness than they had before, until Merlin broke it off. "We really should get going though, _friend_," he said, giving Leon a flirtatious wink that he did not completely feel.

When Leon grabbed his hand as they walked down the stairs, alarm bells went off in Merlin's head. It was one thing to admit they were more than friends, that there was an attraction between them. It was another to hold hands in public as if they were a couple. Leon was definitely hot, but Merlin was starting to worry about Leon's interpretation of their relationship. And Leon had seemed so relaxed about stopping by his parents' house, but did he think that meant something more than it did?

When they finally arrived, Merlin's mother didn't make the situation any easier.

"Hi sweetie! Thank God you came; your father nearly broke his back under the sink. And he hasn't made any progress a—" she paused as she saw Leon lingering uncomfortably in the doorframe. "Well, who's this?" she asked. "Is this the _friend _you were going to meet for dinner?" She walked over to Leon and grabbed him by the hand, tugging him inside. "Why, you're a nice-looking young man," she said. "What's your name?" Merlin pressed his eyelids shut for a moment as if by doing so he could block out the embarrassment his mother was causing him. Was this his reward for putting off a fun date to fix their sink?

"Mother, please leave Leon alone," he said.

"What's the matter? I'm just introducing myself. Since you didn't do me the honor."

"Mother, I only just arrived," Merlin responded.

"It's like he's still 16 sometimes, I swear," she told Leon, threading her arm through his. "Still ashamed of his mother. You can call me Hunith. It's a pleasure to meet you, Leon. We've been waiting to meet a _friend _of Merlin's for some time."

Merlin grimaced. The last thing he needed was his mother treating them as if they were already engaged. "Ok, you've had your fun, now stop torturing us. Do you want me to look at the sink or not?" he said, walking into the kitchen.

"Why hello there, big brother," Morgana greeted him.

"Morgana! I didn't know you were going to be here," Merlin said, happy to escape his mother. Her hair had been parted in the center, two elaborate braids intertwined with red ribbon wrapping around her head. She wore an elegantly woven sarape in large loops about her shoulders, thick bright red and blue stripes melting into greens and yellows. Glossy color photographs were spread on the table in front of her, and she was commanding it all from her laptop like a war pilot in front of the controls. "What are you up to? If your eyebrows were bushier, you'd look like fucking Frida Kahlo."

"Thank you, Merlin! You always know how to give a compliment. Anyway, I decided to come over here to get some focus. My roommates are so noisy, and they're all at home today. And I was also promised dinner," she said. "Come look at this stuff. I got an internship coordinating the Joe Bravo exhibition at school."

"Who?"

"You know, the guy who paints on tortillas."

"Like tortillas that you eat?"

"Yes! How can you not have heard about him? I thought you were into art."

"I'm into photography. Like digital images. Bits. Pixels. You know, modern stuff."

"It might seem a bit weird, but there's something so elemental about our cultural relationship to food, especially to the corn and wheat that kept us surviving for so long. I like to think of his work is an homage to that—like he is painting these iconic images on a canvas that itself represents the backbone of our culture."

"That's a lot of words to describe the work of a guy who paints on food," Merlin smirked.

"Ok, but come look at this one," she said, pushing a photograph of a rounded, colorful shape toward him. He grabbed hold of it and turned it around to face him. Painted on the slightly-burned tortilla was la Virgen de Guadalupe emerging as if out of a seashell of blazing light, her head cloaked in a teal-green mantle, her clothing shining gold beneath. It affected him strangely, but he didn't know why, and didn't want to show Morgana that it did.

"That's great, Morgana, really great. Keep at it, but I've got a sink to take apart." Merlin headed over to the sink, under which his father was spread on the floor. Merlin looked down cautiously into the basin.

"Uh, dad? Can you tell me what the problem is?"

Balinor pulled himself out, red-faced. "I don't know. It's not draining. I can't find the problem. I can't find any clogs."

"It looks pretty clean up here. I think I'm going to have to snake it. I don't know what you're doing down there, dad. You're not going to fix it that way," Merlin laughed as he headed to the small laundry room where his parents kept their tools. On the way, he brushed past Leon, who was ogling him unabashedly.

"Merlin, I didn't know you were such a fix-it man," he smiled, giving Merlin an appraising look.

"Oh, it's nothing that anyone couldn't do," Merlin replied, wishing that Leon wouldn't flirt with him so openly in front of his parents.

For the rest of the time that Merlin worked the sink, digging in and finding the clog, then breaking it up and flushing the pipes, Leon sat at the kitchen table watching him as if transfixed.

Later, over dinner, Leon was quieter, more thoughtful, the joking between them more muted. Merlin often caught Leon giving him long looks, and when he touched him, it was less the manly grappling that had become their normal way of interacting, and more something grounded and sweet. Merlin wanted to reciprocate—he had never really found someone he could commit to having a serious relationship with, and at 24 years old, it was crossing his mind with more frequency. But he found himself involuntarily withdrawing every time Leon reached out to him. Was he scared, or just stupid? Leon was good-looking and sexy and generous, and would without question be a devoted boyfriend. But Merlin couldn't bring himself to feel anything more for Leon than an agreeable attraction.

Maybe he was not destined to feel much of anything for anyone.

After they left the restaurant, it was clear Leon was interested in continuing the evening. When they stopped back at Leon's apartment, Merlin was surprised at how shyly Leon, who was always so gregarious and relaxed, invited him up. But Merlin turned his eyes to the steering wheel, complaining of a long day tomorrow, and he should be getting back, but he'd see him at the Abbey soon enough, yeah?

"Yeah, sure, Merlin," Leon had answered. And Merlin didn't like to remember the look on his face as he got out of the car.


	5. Chapter 5

Merlin tried to focus on what the art history professor was saying, but his eyes kept straying to where Morgana was standing. He watched as she passed her hand over one of the pieces on the wall while speaking to an eager student. As she gesticulated with an authority that Merlin had not seen from her before, Morgana had her listener so absorbed that he seemed to hardly even notice the artwork around him or the wine glass in his hand.

Morgana was different, changing, Merlin thought, her youthful lightheartedness giving way to a new intensity that still charmed. The way she was styling herself had altered too, Merlin noticed. She was bolder, harsher somehow; the greens and blues and reds giving way to a darker palette; the soft folds of oversized pieces hardening into straight lines that stopped and started again along the plane of her body.

He was surprised by the casualness of the look she had chosen to host the opening of the Joe Bravo exhibition at the Hammer. A few months ago she might have made a vintage dress look like a designer piece with a chunky necklace and the one pair of Louboutin stilettos she kept on reserve. But tonight Morgana was wearing nothing more ambitious than a black t-shirt with a 1960s protest-era design. Her simple black jeans tapered at the ankle to reveal 4-inch leather booties beneath.

Merlin brought his attention back to the professor and nodded along to show he had been listening. "Indeed? I hadn't known that," he said.

The professor, taking Merlin's vague reply as a cue to continue his monologue, drew a deep breath and placed a finger in the air. Merlin saw he must act quickly or he would find himself trapped for another fifteen minutes.

"I've learned so much for talking to you," Merlin interjected, "but if you'll excuse me, my sister is hosting this exhibition, and I should really go congratulate her."

The professor looked impressed. "Ah, Morgana is your sister? She is wonderful. Such an eye for the arts. Please give her my compliments."

"Of course," Merlin replied as he shook hands with the man and headed across the room to Morgana, who looked up at his approach.

"Hey, big brother, I'm so glad you could come," she said as she enfolded Merlin in a hug and planted a kiss on his cheek. "Are you having fun?"

Merlin noticed her admirer slink off with disappointment. "Oh, you know, about as much fun as you can have talking to stuffy professors about tortillas," he deadpanned.

"Merlin, you're always such a downer," she teased. "What you need is more wine."

"That's probably true," Merlin answered, watching as Morgana flagged down a server. A boy in a white button-down shirt and a bowtie scurried over.

"Here, drink up," she said, taking a glass from the server and handing it to Merlin. She gave him a quick wink. "It really is wretched stuff, though."

"We can't always afford to be picky."

"That's true," she laughed. "What do you think of this one?" Morgana pointed behind her to a tortilla painted withan image of an ugly-looking cockroach lying on its back, a ring of fire around its head.

"It's hideous," he said.

"The soldaderas during the Mexican Revolution were sometimes called cucarachas. And Oscar Zeta Acosta compared the Chicano people to cockroaches, despised but tough."

"I really prefer not to think of myself as a cockroach."

"It's not a joke, Merlin. Do you know they've been debating immigration laws in the Senate, and when that didn't get anywhere, in July Arizona passed a bill that puts employers out of business if they don't check the legal status of everyone they hire? And that's just the latest thing. MEChA has been organizing information sessions, and they asked me to put together a pamphlet."

"MEChA?"

"It's one of the Chicano student groups on campus. I joined this semester."

"You did?" Merlin's skeptical tone brought a flame to Morgana's eye. He didn't want to get into an argument over something that was clearly important to her. "That's fine. It's good to get involved. Just don't let it take over your life," he said.

"You can blow it off, Merlin, but it's your life, too. It's who you are."

"Look at my little sister, lecturing me," he smiled, trying to change the topic.

"Someone needs to. Actually, you do look a bit under the weather, Merlin. Have you been getting enough sleep?"

The truth was, Merlin hadn't slept properly since the summer. And during the day, he was listless, unmotivated. Even his work was suffering as a result. He wasn't the type to suffer from depression; his family called him Old Steady because of the way he seemed always at ease even in the rockiest of storms. It wasn't that, no, but Merlin had the sense more and more that something was missing that he couldn't quite be whole without.

"I don't know, Morgana, I just don't have much energy lately. I'm sure it'll pass."

"Maybe you're stressed out because you broke up with that cute guy you brought to meet mom and dad."

"I didn't bring him over to meet—I was fixing their—and we didn't _break up_ because we _were never dating_, Morgana," Merlin sighed.

She wasn't exactly right, but Morgana's accusation may have hit closer to the mark than Merlin wanted to admit. Ever since Merlin had turned down Leon's offer to spend the night with him, Merlin found himself avoiding the Abbey. He dreaded seeing Leon, but he also wanted to patch things up, preferably with as little fuss as possible. And refusing to see Leon at all was not helping.

So Merlin had occasionally forced himself to drop by the Abbey and sit at the bar as if nothing had changed. Leon had been shy and hopeful the first time Merlin came in, but Merlin worked to build a distance between them at the same time as he reconstructed their old connection. He carefully avoided any hint of what had happened, instead keeping the conversation focused strictly on the latest political maneuverings at his office, and the problem he was having with his car, and the toxic pollution in the city. Leon seemed to get the message and gradually spent less time talking to Merlin, coming over now and then only to refill Merlin's drink.

Leon had every right to be annoyed with him, Merlin reasoned, and he'd just have to wait it out. Merlin already missed the days when their relationship had been full with the casual exchange of advice delivered with a dose of flirtatious energy. Besides, Leon was pretty damn near the only person he could call a friend.

But the rift in their relationship only partially explained Merlin's fatigue. The absence of a deeper connection with Leon had highlighted all that Merlin was missing. Although Merlin did not consider himself to be an attractive man, he was aware that guys looked at him, and he never had much of a problem finding someone to go home with. Still, it was getting old. And _he _was getting old, even if Leon, who was 30, made fun of him for thinking that. Every other day his mother was calling him on the phone and wondering if there was someone in his life and just how long she would have to wait before cuddling her grandchildren. "All of _eternity_," would be his irreverent reply. But he didn't want to wait forever, not really.

"Aw. I liked Leon. He was sweet, and he certainly adored _you_," Morgana was saying, tilting her head to the side as she inspected Merlin.

"Can we not talk about this?"

"Ok, don't get defensive," Morgana laughed, threading her arm through Merlin's. "Let me take you on a tour of the gallery and introduce you to all the VIPs. You know how I love to show you off, especially when you wear that cute leather jacket."

…

As the year waned, Merlin passed the days in dreary repetition. Each morning he woke up feeling emptier than he had the last, each evening more tired. And yet sleep wouldn't come.

A few Sundays after the opening of Morgana's art exhibition, Merlin shuffled around the kitchen, preparing a mug of instant coffee and a slice of toast topped with apricot jam. He settled at the table with his laptop and opened the browser, determined to read the _Times_**, **but he soon abandoned it to scroll through the sale section of Barney's. He was particularly vulnerable to his shopping habit when he felt out of spirits. Merlin clicked the zoom button on a pair of slim-fitting Burberry wool trousers with a brown and blue checked pattern. They were gorgeous, and he quivered at the thought of them. But even with the 50% discount, he couldn't rationalize spending the $400, could he?

Instead, he opened a new tab and Googled MEChA. He flipped to the About Us page, and read: "_In adopting their Chicano identity, the students committed themselves to return to the barrios, colonias, or campos and together, struggle against the forces that oppress our gente. Lastly, the affirmation that we are Indigenous people to this land by placing our movement in Aztlan, the homeland of all peoples from Anahuak_." That didn't sound so radical. Reasonable, even. He still wasn't sure how he felt about Morgana joining the group; if it represented a reclamation of her identity or a move towards something else. But she was growing up and growing in to her own mind, and he was proud of her. At least one of them was moving forward.

Merlin flipped back to the Barney's tab. "Fuck it," he said aloud. He deserved a treat considering how hopeless he had been feeling lately. And the colder weather _was _coming, he acknowledged.

After the debt-inducing purchase had delivered only the most fleeting sense of elation, Merlin leaned back into the chair and stretched his legs out in front of him. From where he was sitting, he could see the bareness of the pantry. Although he ate most of his meals out, he hadn't been honest-to-God shopping in two weeks. He was sick of the restaurants, and he was tired of the scene. Today he wanted nothing more than to unwind without seeing a single person he knew—maybe pass the afternoon by watching the Chargers game and then cook himself a slow dinner for a change.

He felt the tension in the small of his back start to loosen as he gave himself permission to take the day off from his incessant worries and the pressure he put on himself and the need to socialize. A routine trip to Pavilions to restock the kitchen would be the accomplishment of the day and nothing more. Merlin tried to find the motivation to shower but couldn't think of a good reason why. Instead he settled for a few superficial swipes of his teeth with the toothbrush. He eyed his stubble in the bathroom mirror and picked up the razor, only to put it down again. Usually it was hard for him to leave the house without being meticulously groomed, but today was his personal holiday. He grinned back at his untidy image, his black hair sticking up in every direction, the blue and white flannel he was wearing unbuttoned to reveal an old t-shirt beneath. "I'm just…I don't care today," he told himself.

And he didn't. At least not until he saw Arthur inspecting the apples in the produce department at Pavilions.

Merlin stared until he was absolutely certain it was the LAPD cop he had picked up at the Abbey. Arthur was wearing track pants and his hair was unkempt but somehow still perfect. And although his careful evaluation of the fruit didn't exactly evoke the sexiness of Arthur's stare back at the bar, something about it touched Merlin, as if he were being allowed a glimpse of Arthur's more vulnerable side.

Merlin felt his skin tightening as he watched, as though a wave of repressed energy had been lurking inside him and was now pushing to get out. He wanted to turn on his heel and rush to the ice cream section, flee the store altogether, anything—but he couldn't move and he couldn't look away. On the contrary, Merlin found himself walking towards Arthur, who was now holding a shiny red apple up to his nose to capture the scent.

"Hey," Merlin said, trying to sound casual as he dropped a nearby orange into his shopping basket.

Arthur looked up and, recognizing him right away, flushed as if embarrassed to find himself face-to-face with his one night stand. "Oh, hi. Mervin, was it?"

"Merlin," he corrected, a bit peeved. _Honestly_. "It's good to see you again."

"Yeah, likewise," Arthur responded, "Just you know, picking up some fruit. Gotta eat fruit, they say. Delicious."

_Was this for real_? wondered Merlin. This Arthur was hardly the cocky guy he had met at the bar. Still, it was an awkward situation, and they were meeting for the first time in full daylight, without the false confidence given by flawless hair and a healthy dose of alcohol.

Merlin couldn't help but feel that Arthur was getting cuter by the second.

"I suppose they are delicious. I should probably get one too," Merlin said, leaning across Arthur to grab an apple. He raised his eyebrows. "Come with me to get some fennel?"

Arthur looked startled by the suggestion, but nodded and followed Merlin over to the yellow and sea-green and purple piles of bulbs and lettuces. Merlin made small talk for a few minutes, trying to relax the both of them: how temperate October had been; his plan to watch the game and cook a slow dinner; a social gaffe he had made at the office in front of his boss. Arthur was soon laughing in response to Merlin's charms, and Merlin discovered that the sexual tension they had shared at the Abbey was being replaced by a more easy-going attraction.

"Do you think these grapes are any good, Merlin?" Arthur asked, plucking a deep purple one from the stem and offering it to Merlin. "I hate buying them and then realizing later I picked a sour bunch. It's not stealing if we give it a quick test first, is it?"

Merlin considered taking the grape with his fingers, but only for a moment. Instead he leaned in and took it from Arthur with his mouth, his lips just grazing Arthur's fingertips. "Mmm, they're sweet," he reported while Arthur looked back at him with a something between amusement and want in his eyes.

After that, there was an unspoken understanding that they would finish shopping together. Merlin accompanied Arthur as he chose tomatoes, cupping each in his hand and squeezing gently; Arthur waited at Merlin's side when he ordered prosciuttoat the deli counter. Merlin made fun of Arthur for picking out a box of instant mac and cheese ("you actually eat that?"), and Arthur persuaded Merlin to buy his favorite eggplant tapenade. And when Merlin's basket became overfull, Arthur pulled it away from him and without a word transferred each item to his own cart. Merlin considered protesting, but he held himself back and gave Arthur a simple thank you instead.

"It's no problem," said Arthur. "If we are going to be shopping together anyway, it doesn't make sense for you to be lugging that thing around." As Merlin watched Arthur push the cart towards the bread aisle, all calm and business-like, as if they had been grocery shopping together a hundred times before, a curious sensation unfurled in his heart. Who was this man that he had taken home one night and enjoyed and nearly forgotten? These small gestures of Arthur's, almost insignificant, weighed on him big and heavy now, and filled him with a new longing that was completely unlike what he had felt that evening in the Abbey.

The longing worsened as Arthur placed two half-gallons of milk in their cart as a matter of course, as Arthur stood waiting in the check-out line, his arms crossed and making fun of the political scandals on the front pages of the newspapers for sale, as he unloaded grocery bags into Merlin's trunk. Merlin's earlier desire to spend the day alone at home was rapidly disintegrating, and the prospect of it now felt empty and without purpose.

When Arthur had placed the last package in Merlin's car, there was no more reason to delay their parting. Yet Merlin didn't want to stop looking at Arthur's face, and he was already missing the feeling of Arthur standing next to him.

"It was good to run into you again," he said.

"It was, wasn't it?" replied Arthur. "I hadn't expected to see you after…"

"Would you want to have dinner sometime?" Merlin cut him off.

"Dinner? Yeah, that would be fun. Let me give you my number," Arthur replied as he pulled a business card out of his wallet and scrawled hasty digits on the back.

"Thanks. I will definitely call," said Merlin, taking the card and giving Arthur one last smile. "Good-bye, Arthur."

"Bye, Merlin," Arthur answered, "I hope to see you again soon."

* * *

><p><strong>Thank you to bookjunkie1975 for this chapter's beta! xox<strong>


	6. Chapter 6

**Thank you to Magnolia822 for the beta!**

* * *

><p>Merlin watched Arthur talk through the huge piece of sashimi that ballooned his cheeks, wondering how he managed to behave like such a boor and yet look like an adorable squirrel at the same time. "They didn't even deserve to win. Did you see the way L.T. went for those long runs and practically danced his way out of bounds? He's getting full of himself. If Turner had any balls, he would've put 33 in the game and given him a go."<p>

It occurred to Merlin that it was his turn to speak, and he willed himself to stop staring at the way Arthur's throat rose and fell as he swallowed. "Nah, the score was too close. Going with backup at that point would've been too much of a risk." In fact, Merlin remembered dreading a swap so much he had, alone in his living room, yelled at the TV, ordering Turner to stick with Tomlinson.

"That's just it," Arthur replied, pointing a chopstick a little too close to Merlin's face for comfort. "That's it right there. Sometimes when you think you're playing it safe, you're setting yourself up for failure. And that's just what Turner's problem is."

Hearing the conviction in Arthur's voice, Merlin experienced a flash of heat that left him unable to respond. Ever since he had watched Arthur roll his shopping carriage over to his car in the Pavilion's parking lot, Merlin had been having the most obscene fantasies about Arthur, and not the normal kind either. The kind that involved sharing popcorn during matinee movies, bringing Arthur to his parents' place even when no pipes needed fixing, and waking up in the morning curled in his arms, speaking softly about plans for the day, sheets like vines tangled about their legs.

With these visions weighing on him too heavily, he had paced and harrumphed and deliberated for a week before finally following up on his promise to call Arthur, wondered for God's sake why he hadn't insisted on getting an email address instead of a phone number. Staring at Arthur's hasty scrawl, he dreaded the real-time moment when he would have to use his voice, and hear Arthur's, and somehow think of the right words on the spot, without editing and deleting and starting again. Did Arthur really want to talk to him? See him again? It had seemed so clear at Pavilion's, but now alone in his apartment doubt had begun to dull the edges of the day's memory. Merlin wondered if he had misread every glance, every word, every gesture.

But he had worried also about letting too much time slip by and allowing himself to dwindle to a tiny speck in Arthur's mind. Arthur who, with his face like the sun and his perfectly firm body wrapped tight in his officer's uniform, _God_, Merlin was well aware that Arthur must be trampling boys' hearts all over L.A. And he was sure it wouldn't be long until Arthur was carefully loading another man's groceries into his car. The idea of some other guy at Arthur's side had made Merlin swear out loud and frantically plug in Arthur's number before he could dwell on it another minute.

It was clear that Arthur had not been expecting his call. Merlin was surprised how unrehearsed Arthur sounded, a little confused and then, he had noted with pleasure, almost glad when he recognized Merlin's voice. Realizing how silly he had been and that he was not about to be mocked, bruised, or rejected, Merlin gained enough confidence to ask Arthur out.

"Of course I'd love to get dinner with you, Merlin. I've been waiting for your call all week, but I'd pretty much given up," Arthur had replied.

Merlin had envied the careless way Arthur expressed his enthusiasm. Arthur was clearly the kind of guy who had been admired and loved and pampered by everyone he met in life, and as a result had developed an easy self-assurance that allowed him to share openly what Merlin would have in himself considered to be weakness. While he found it a little irritating, he also admired it and wanted to be a part of it, wanted some of Arthur's light to land on him too.

Arthur had suggested picking him up, and although Merlin was used to being the one behind the wheel, he had agreed. "You're not going to pick me up in a cop car, are you?" he joked. "Because the neighbors might talk." Although buzzing around the L.A. streets in Arthur's police car, maybe giving the siren a quick flash, might have been fun. And now here they were, the low lights casting shadows on Arthur's face, the waiters swooping in to refill the tea, hokey music underlining their conversation. In spite of all his anxiety, being with Arthur felt like the most natural thing in the world.

"How is your sushi? Do you like it?" Arthur asked.

"It's fine, good. Yes, thank you," he answered, pulling himself out of his thoughts.

"Because if you don't like it, we can send it back. I'll call the waiter over right now and get you something new," Arthur worried.

Merlin looked down at his plate and saw he had barely touched his food. He had been so busy daydreaming of Arthur when Arthur was right there in front of him. "No, the food is fine, really. I just like to take my time," Merlin assured him.

"Ah yes, I think I've been an eyewitness to the way you take things slow," Arthur said, giving him a wicked look.

Merlin, not sure how to reply, took a quick inventory of things he could say to change the topic: the weather (boring), celebrity gossip (tedious), his family (too personal?), what he ate for lunch (of absolutely no interest) and found nothing acceptable, not with the way two tiny lines rounded at the corner of Arthur's grin. No, he was lucky he could think at all.

Taking pity on Merlin's discomfort, Arthur drifted to safer topics. "Tell me, Merlin," he said, putting his elbows on the table and leaning in, "what would you be if you could be anything? If you didn't have to do the job you're doing now. What would you do?"

Merlin looked into Arthur's eyes and found genuine interest there. "Photography," he said without pausing to think. "I love photography."

"Really?"

"Always have. I went to school for it, actually. I even tried to establish myself when I graduated, shopped my portfolio around, did some absolutely worthless freelance that paid nothing. So yeah, I thought about it, but I also wanted to live in my own place, and keep myself clothed, and you know, eat. Then my college loan repayments kicked in. That's when I asked a friend who graduated a few years before me to see if there were any openings in his company. Thankfully there were. And I turned out to be pretty good at selling things."

"So you gave it all up? How could you give up something you loved?" Arthur wondered.

Merlin had often tormented himself with the same question and had not yet found a good answer. He tried to sound more confident than he felt. "I didn't really give it up. I mean, I don't do it full time, but it never really leaves you, you know? The passion that you have. I still take pictures when something excites me, and I've tried to keep up—subscribing to magazines and looking at photography books at the store. But yeah, I guess you're right, too. I don't have a lot of time to spend on it, I'm not really improving. So I guess in that sense I've given up. I've given up trying to be a great photographer. But I'm young, you know? I have time. Maybe after I make some money."

"You shouldn't wait too long, Merlin. You shouldn't let it slip away from you, if you really love it."

Merlin laughed. "Yeah, that's what my sister is always saying."

"How is she, Morgana?"

"What?" Merlin paused just before delivering another roll into his mouth.

"How is your sister? Her name's Morgana, right?"

"Um, yes. I'm surprised you remembered her name. I mean, considering how good you are with names and all. But she's fine, thanks for asking."

"That was her with you at the bar. That first night, when we met," Arthur said.

"Yes, she agreed to come out and keep her poor bastard of a brother company so he wouldn't look so alone."

"That's sweet of her. She's a good wing man."

"Aw, ha, it's not like that," Merlin chuckled, and then considered the point. "Ok, maybe a little."

"What's she up to these days?"

"She just put together an art exhibition. But I've hardly talked to her since the opening. She's too busy now turning into a radical."

"How's that?"

"I mean, she joined MEChA, do you know what that is? And she's been participating in all these protests. Or so my mother updates me," Merlin explained.

"MEChA? Isn't that that crazy Mexican separatist organization? They want to overturn the U.S. government. Give California back to Mexico or something."

"Don't be ridiculous," Merlin said, thinking Arthur was overly concerned about a group of idealistic college kids roaming around UCLA with signs.

Arthur put down his chopsticks. "I'm totally serious."

"I don't really know much about it, to be honest, but I think at least on her campus it's more about immigrant rights and fighting racism against Chicanos. She's been talking about some bill they just passed in Arizona."

"The one cracking down on employers who hire illegals? That bill is perfectly reasonable. Do you know what the conditions are like down there?" Arthur said in an off-hand way before shoving another piece of sushi in his mouth and chewing thoughtfully, "Arizona is being overrun by those people. It's totally killing the economy."

Merlin's head went dizzy for a second and his eyes flashed. He wondered for a moment if he had heard Arthur accurately, if he were really uttering anti-immigration nonsense at _him, _as if he wasn't even aware Merlin was there. How could he be so flippant, so cavalier about disparaging an entire group of people and Merlin one of them? Merlin wished they were still at five minutes ago, that he could unhear what Arthur just said. But he couldn't. And the way Arthur was sipping tea as if he had not the faintest idea there was a problem only fueled Merlin's growing rage.

"_Overrun_? _Those_ people, really?" he snapped, making every effort not to speak too loudly. He wasn't sure he could be civil. "From what I can see your life is just fine, perfect really, and _we_ dirty Mexicans aren't causing any problems for you."

"_Mer_lin, I never said…don't make it sound like that. Of course I don't see _you_," Arthur said, dropping his voice, "as 'dirty'. You're not like that. It's just, with illegal immigration. I am a _police officer._ It is my duty to uphold the law."

Merlin stared. Arthur was so fucking far from even understanding why what he had said upset Merlin. But maybe he shouldn't have been surprised. _Just look at him sitting there all regal_, Merlin thought, _like he owns the place_. As far as Merlin could see, not even a bit of self-doubt had entered Arthur's consciousness. No one had probably ever told Arthur he was wrong in his life. The golden boy.

Bitter disappointment crushed into Merlin then, flattening his ridiculous hopes that this might lead somewhere, that this guy could maybe be important in his life. Where had he gotten that idea? So he had taken Arthur home one night and then picked out a few apples with him at a grocery store. They had hardly even spoken beyond trivialities before Merlin had allowed his loneliness and his fantasy life to get in the way of reality. And then men he really _did _know, men who were actually sweet, he treated like shit. Like Leon.

He sat quiet for a moment trying to think of what to say. Trying not to show his anger. He couldn't completely articulate to himself why he was so upset, couldn't isolate the precise detail that rankled the most; it was too big, bigger than him and stretched beyond this conversation to somewhere much deeper. How do you communicate with a person when the words you use don't even have the same meanings?

Arthur was looking at him with his forehead wrinkled as if Merlin were some strange mystery he couldn't figure out. Merlin hoped it was more than curiosity shadowing Arthur's eyes. He thought he maybe detected something sincere there, found himself hoping it was regret, that maybe Arthur was willing to listen. And in spite of himself he really _really _wanted Arthur to understand. He liked him still, Merlin admitted. Something was still pulling him toward Arthur, making him want to prove something to him, to make Arthur _see _him.

"I just think it's a bit more complicated than you're making it sound. People don't come to the U.S. because they want to steal or break the law or cause trouble. The people who come here come because they have no choice. Because they need to feed their families. They aren't criminals. And the fact is that the U.S. economy needs them. There's a market for their work. If there wasn't a demand, they'd have no cause to cross, would they?"

Arthur sighed. "Look, Merlin, I don't like politics. Despise them, actually. I wish we weren't having this conversation, and I certainly didn't mean to insult you."

Merlin wasn't ready to let Arthur off the hook. He ignored him, picking up speed, "And the border itself…who's to say who's on the wrong side? That border has done a lot of moving and it has a lot of holes. There was a time when some of this country was part of Mexico. And a time before that when it belonged to those who were here first. Some people might say that you're the illegal immigrants." He tried not to raise his voice.

"But Mer—"

"And it's more than that too, Arthur, more than just politics and history. It's the way you talk about it. Like we're some kind of infestation. And I'm sitting right here. _You're talking about me_."

"But I'm not talking—"

"You are. You may not mean to, but you are." Merlin sat back in his chair and folded his arms, not making eye contact with Arthur. A silence fell between them. This was decidedly _not _how he had imagined his date would go. Merlin thought about his parents. Was there a time, were there times, when they struggled to understand one another? Had his mother ever been this clueless? Had his father ever had to defend himself to her when she should have been the one apologizing? It was hard to picture his mother, as generous and open as she was, ever talking like Arthur had.

But Arthur was generous and open too, Merlin knew dimly, remembering the sweetness in his voice, the small gestures that revealed the way he looked out for others. Maybe it wasn't all so black and white. But still he couldn't bring himself to look anywhere but his plate.

Arthur was the first to break the silence. "Maybe you're right, Merlin. What you said, I don't know. I'm sorry about…maybe the way I said that was fucked up. I've never really thought about it the way you do. But can you really be surprised, given who my father is?"

"Who?"

"Uther Pendragon. You must have known that."

"The senator? The guy who pushed that bill through Arizona, the bill Morgana is protesting?" Merlin choked out.

"There aren't many people with my last name."

The argument they were having was bad enough, and now it turned out Merlin was dating the son of the senator from Hell, whose diatribes against immigrants brimmed over with subtly worded racial epithets. Merlin was no longer surprised Arthur had the opinions he did; he was surprised Arthur was even sitting in the same room as him. He wanted to believe that Arthur's hurtful words weren't entirely his own, that Arthur was just regurgitating sentiments he had been exposed to since childhood.

"Ok. I'm trying to wrap my head around this one. I'm having dinner with Uther Pendragon's son? I guess I can see why..." Merlin fiddled with his chopsticks and caught himself starting to smile. "Well, let's just say you could have turned out to be much more of a jerk, I suppose."

"Hey, slow down there! Now who's insulting who?" Arthur warned, but Merlin thought he sounded more relieved than angry.

"And how does the Senator feel about his son liking guys?" Merlin asked on impulse, but regretted his tactlessness right away. "No, never mind, don't answer that. I shouldn't have said that. It's none of my business."

"No, it's ok. You know, he's not thrilled with it, but most of the fighting ended a long time ago. Now we just ignore it and everyone's the better for it. And the media have been good about respecting our privacy," Arthur replied without much emotion.

"Oh," was all Merlin was able to say. He thought about his parents and how loving they were, how much his mother wanted to see him settle down with the right guy, and how Arthur would never know what that was like. And he thought about the two-dimensional cutout he had crafted of Arthur earlier that evening, a man full of confidence only because no one had ever given him reason to doubt himself. Now he felt like the asshole.

"Well, I still can't believe you're related to him. I would have thought…it's just I hadn't expected Uther Pendragon's son to be…"

"A cop?" Arthur filled in.

"Well, yes. I mean not when there's the family business or law school or politics."

"Law school was his dream for me," Arthur admitted. "But I'm not very bookish. My father could never keep me under control. Even when I was little all I wanted to do was play cops and robbers and shoot toy guns and watch bad Westerns. My father's come to accept my career, provided, of course, I move up the ladder, that I become something more than just a beat cop."

"How long have you been an officer?"

"Not long, only a couple of years. Can you believe I wanted to join right away after high school?" Arthur laughed. "As if my father would ever let me get away with skipping college. He said I'd get better pay right off the bat and it would open up more opportunities in the force. He was right, of course, but God that was torture. All I wanted to do was get out onto the streets and get the bad guys, you know? I had a lot of…energy. I ended up playing a lot of football instead."

"Hmm. I really can't imagine feeling that way. I always hated…it just wouldn't have occurred to me to become a police officer," said Merlin, aware they were treading again in murky waters. "So you're just a regular officer now, then?" he asked, eager to keep the conversation light.

"A little better than that, but like I said, I'm aiming for something more. Maybe SWAT or counter-terrorism, eventually. If I keep getting promoted, my father says I'll be a shoe-in."

Merlin wasn't sure how he felt about Arthur's career, but he couldn't resist a quick fantasy of Arthur in dark glasses and a black uniform swinging through windows to save him. He'd blow away any intruders and then he'd come for Merlin, take off his clothes and have his way with him. _Ok_, thought Merlin. _Stop this now, back to reality. _

"SWAT team, huh? You keep surprising me," Merlin said.

"At least until I get into counter-terrorism. Because I want to devote myself to doing something that will help protect the country, make this world a safer place to live."

Arthur's faith in the role he might play in the world stirred something in Merlin. He was following his dreams where Merlin had failed. And, Merlin was coming to see, in characteristic fashion he was doing so not for his own sake, but to protect others. The small candle on the table, whose flame had been near flickering out, blazed to sudden life again as Merlin studied Arthur's face.

When they had had their fill of sushi, Arthur got the check despite Merlin's well-founded protests that he had been the one to ask Arthur out. "No Merlin, this one's on me. After all, you did get us that free drink at the Abbey," Arthur remembered with a laugh.

Then as he was walking toward the door, Merlin felt Arthur grab him by the waist of his pants and pull him back.

"Merlin," he said, "You've got part of your shirt tucked into your jeans. Let me fix you."

"Oh, oops," Merlin said, allowing Arthur to pull out his shirttail and smooth it, a little embarrassed. He knew exactly how that had happened. So much for his nervousness getting ready for their date. He was lucky he didn't have a pair of underwear from the laundry hanging out of his clothes.

"Sometimes you seem so well put together, but I'm starting to suspect that you're really a mess," Arthur joked.

"Certain people have that effect on me," Merlin replied.

"If you're referring to me, then yes, I do often have that effect on people," Arthur said cockily, coming up to walk at Merlin's side and taking his hand as they walked outside.

"Your arrogance is unendurable," Merlin chastised, but he couldn't hide the unexpected happiness in his voice at feeling the warmth of Arthur's hand cupping his.

"Hey," Arthur stopped. He brought Merlin around to face him and searched his eyes. "I'm sorry about what I said earlier. It wasn't right. That's not the kind of person I want to be—like my father. Thank you for reminding me of that."

"Arthur…"

"Forgive me, Merlin?"

Arthur looked so plaintive and sweet Merlin couldn't remember how he'd doubted him for a moment. "Of course, Arthur," he replied.

"Good," Arthur said, tugging Merlin toward the car, "Then let's not go home just yet. It's a nice night. Do you want to walk around Venicewith me for awhile?"

"Hm, I don't know. Isn't it a bit dangerous there at night?" Merlin hesitated.

"Don't worry, Merlin," Arthur said, pulling Merlin to him and wrapping an arm around his waist. Merlin crashed softly into Arthur from the momentum. Merlin felt Arthur's nose at his temple then, breathing in. "No one is ever going to hurt you as long as I'm around," he murmured.

"Well you just better stick around then," Merlin replied happily.

…

They walked along the Venice boardwalk, Arthur's arm slung casually around Merlin's waist. The crowds of tourists, stoners, and performers afforded them a peculiar privacy, and with the evening air sweetened by the ocean, Arthur seemed to relax. Merlin was struck by how sweet he was, how open, kind of a dork really. He talked to Merlin of the first time he had pursued gang bangers down a crowded street, of when he had rebelled against Uther in his teens, and that game in college when he had leapt over 2 downed players to make a winning touchdown.

As Arthur reminisced, Merlin felt an unfamiliar warmth tingling just under his skin. The fact was, Merlin admitted, he _liked _Arthur, liked him in a way that was completely new, liked him like he had never liked anyone before, as if his heart had been stored up in his chest waiting for this man, and this man only, to bring it to life.

"I'm glad I found you again, at Pavilions," Merlin said, tilting his head to look into Arthur's eyes.

"I'm glad you found me, too," Arthur answered softly, wrapping Merlin into a warm hug.

…

Arthur turned the car off after squeezing into a parking spot near Merlin's apartment. Merlin wished the motor was still humming, wanted the radio to continue playing. How had his busy street gone so suddenly quiet? He knew what was supposed to happen now. He was supposed to wait for the right moment in the obligatory small talk that would follow before asking. But he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to.

"Did you have fun, Merlin?" Arthur asked, shifting a few inches closer and wrapping his arm around the back of Merlin's headrest, grinning at him in that irritating way he had when he knew he was sexy.

Merlin suffered him a look. "You know I did."

"Maybe _too_ much fun for someone as skinny and obviously feeble as you," Arthur teased, playing at concern. "You must be exhausted. We should get you tucked into bed."

"I appreciate your looking out for my welfare, but I think I can manage."

"I'm not so sure of that. And besides, I wouldn't be doing my duty if I didn't make certain you got safely in the door."

"That's a bit like the Big Bad Wolf playing Grandma, don't you think?" Merlin pointed out.

Arthur snarled at him and held up a claw in response. He looked so intent that Merlin couldn't help laugh. "You ass," he said, feeling less awkward now.

"Ok, at the moment I might be the most lethal threat you're likely to encounter, but I'm going to insist on walking you in. Don't try to talk me out of it."

His eyes landing on Arthur's immovable shoulders, which seemed to take up all the space in the car, Merlin did not feel entirely able to argue.

He had led men up those stairs before, including Arthur, but he had never been this jittery, never felt these flashes of hotness roll through him, leaving a damp residue in their wake. The awareness of Arthur following one step behind him, occasionally brushing against his back, intensified his anxiety. When he reached his door, unsure if he was fighting to escape Arthur or hurrying to let him in, Merlin struggled to get the key to fit in the lock. He paused when he felt Arthur's hand slide up under his shirt, sampling the skin on his back before winding around to enclose his stomach, pulling Merlin back against Arthur's distressingly firm body. Merlin allowed himself to sink against him.

"Mm, Merlin," whispered Arthur, dragging his teeth along Merlin's ear, "I could eat you."

Merlin managed to turn himself into Arthur's embrace and pushed his long fingers into Arthur's hair. "Could you?" he asked. He was just a little taller than Arthur, but when he was in his arms it seemed like that was true only because he was floating up, and it was Arthur's firm embrace that kept him rooted to the earth. He looked a challenge down into Arthur's eyes. "Which parts would you eat first?"

"Hmmm. Your lips until they're swollen raw, then your ears as long as you'd let me, and each of those veins on your throat, separately, and then," Arthur paused, reaching down between Merlin's ass and tugging gently, "every last piece of you."

"Oh," breathed Merlin, and then let himself be kissed by Arthur's insistent lips. He felt vaguely concerned about things getting messy in the hallway where they might be interrupted by his neighbors.

"So, Merlin," Arthur thrummed, pushing him up against the door. "How much longer are you going to make me seduce you before you let me into your place?"

The idea of Arthur continuing to toy with him in the hallway for hours was terribly appealing, and so was the idea of Arthur, police-like, kicking down his door in his haste to get Merlin inside, but the thinking side of Merlin—very much struggling to stay in the game and shouting with insistent if faraway warnings—persuaded Merlin otherwise.

"I want you to stay over," Merlin began, trying to sound firm in spite of the sensation of being thrown off a very tall building, "but…"

"But?" Arthur did not seem to be paying much attention as he gnawed at Merlin's neck.

"But I just…think we shouldn't go too fast," Merlin managed to say, tugging at the loop of Arthur's jeans to sweeten the blow.

"Merlin," laughed Arthur, coming up for air, "you idiot. We've already been fast. I've already," he continued, pushing up against him more insistently, "owned every part of you."

"Yes," Merlin answered, unsettled by the hounding look in Arthur's eyes, "but that was different. That was before I knew you."

Arthur stroked Merlin's face, traced a finger along his lips. "And what?" he asked softly. "You're happy to do all that with a perfect stranger, but as soon as I've gotten a handle on your name and you've learned a little about my father, you can't do this? That doesn't make any sense, Merlin."

Merlin shut his eyes briefly against Arthur, not sure quite how to make Arthur understand what he was feeling. "I just don't want this to be like it has been with other guys."

Arthur pretended to be hurt. "Other guys, Merlin, really? Is that the kind of thing you think you should be telling me?"

Merlin grimaced at his own stupidity. "I don't want to mess this up. Things are different with you. I…I really like you, Arthur."

"Hmm. You really like me, do you?" Arthur growled. "Then I'm going to have to put a stop to your slutty ways for good," he promised, wrapping his arm all the way around Merlin's waist and leaning forward to suck his mouth into a long, slow kiss that nearly pulled Merlin's stomach out of his mouth.

When Arthur had finished with him and Merlin had once again caught his breath, Merlin asked, a smile returning to his eyes, "So can I take that to mean you like me, too?"

"Don't be so full of yourself, Merlin," Arthur replied, pulling his keys out of his pocket. "I'll call you, ok?"

"Yes, please," Merlin responded with relief.

"And just so you know," Arthur reached out to grasp Merlin's ear between his thumb and finger, and planting a final quick kiss on his lips, "yes, I do. Like you."

* * *

><p><strong>Thank you for reading! <strong>

**I've already started writing the next chapter, but it may take me a little longer than usual to finish it because I am working on another project for an LJ Merthur fest. I appreciate your patience.**

**Note: **When I uploaded this chapter, something went wonky with the spacing between words. I think I fixed everything, but if you notice a couple of words smushed together, I'd welcome a PM.****


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